


I Don't Love You (But I Always Will)

by SinnamonSpider



Series: Stereo Love: Excerpts [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dean is happy, Denial of Feelings, Kinda Unrequited but Kinda Not, M/M, Pre-Stanford, Sam is Not, Self-Denial, Shower Sex, Sibling Incest, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:06:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonSpider/pseuds/SinnamonSpider
Summary: Sam knew that Dean had everything that he could ever want.The trouble was, Sam did not.





	I Don't Love You (But I Always Will)

**Author's Note:**

> This song came on and punched me in the face with kinda unrequited pre-Stanford angry-angsty Wincest feels. I swear I am gonna finish When It Was Only Us at some point. I swear. In the meantime, have this as a humble offering. 
> 
> Title and lyrics from "Poison & Wine" by The Civil Wars. Seriously listen to this one, it gave me chills.
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Feedback is my drug of choice.

_Your mouth is poison_  
_Your mouth is wine_  
_You think your dreams_  
_Are the same as mine_

They break apart, sweat-soaked and sticky, and Sam falls back onto the pillow and stares at the ceiling. The motel room is silent, still, the only sound the harsh breathing of two boys who have just fucked each other's brains out. Dad is gone, of course. He'll be back soon, or maybe he won't: Sam finds it hard to care lately.

He knows that Dean is content with everything they have. A hunter’s life: Dad at the helm, Dean the intrepid first mate, and Sam the faithful hand. The Impala purring beneath them, spiriting them from town to town, job to job, a sleek black ship cutting through the waters of the American Midwest. The freedom of a life lived on the fringes of society, with all the conveniences and none of the restrictions.

When Sam didn't pull away from that first kiss, sixteen and struggling just the same way with the depth and intensity of the feelings they both felt; when he went willingly to the bed they shared, not to sleep but to kiss, to touch, to explore bodies known to each other for so long but never in this way; when Dean had first reached his peak, gasping Sam's name like it was falling from his lips for the first time and not the millionth, buried deep in the hot clutch of Sam's body with tears rolling down his high, perfect cheekbones, Sam knew that Dean had everything that he could ever want.

The trouble was, Sam did not.

He wanted more; he always had. Always would, he realized. Once he reached that realization, it became harder and harder to deny it. He was not Dean: he could not find satisfaction in a hunter’s life. It wasn't enough.

Dean collapses on the mattress beside Sam, reaches for him with loving, sex-clumsy hands, but the bile rises in Sam's throat and he evades his brother, slipping from the bed with Dean's come dripping down his legs, and locks himself in the bathroom.

He doesn't stare at himself in the mirror: he's tried that, and the answers are not there. He grabs a length of toilet paper, wiping their mingled seed from his body, poking idly at a bite mark on his inner thigh, where Dean had sunk in his teeth before moving lower, putting that sinner’s mouth of his to good use. Sam's hole flutters in recollection at the touch of those soft, warm lips.

He steps into the shower, turns the water on, hot and almost punishing, but he doesn't wash himself, just stands under the erratic spray of a cheap motel showerhead until he hears the door open and soon Dean is sliding in beside him. “Should have called me sooner,” he says, fake chastising, lips drinking droplets from the skin of Sam's shoulder. Sam shivers under the touch, hot water be damned, and he can't tell anymore if it's from desire or distaste, reception or revulsion. Dean's hands slip, wet and hungry, over his body. He's firm and heavy against Sam's back, a solid weight that Sam once found comforting and now finds smothering.

But his body betrays him, his cock stirring at Dean's caresses, the both of them fueled by the insistent hormones of youth, and when Dean's hand closes around him, slippery with soap, he cannot stop the moan that falls from his lips. “Ready for me, Sammy?” Dean whispers in his ear, dark and sweet like the gourmet chocolate bar he'd stolen from that expensive candy store for Sam's 14th birthday, and just like the chocolate, Sam always wants more, even when he feels sick to death of it.

He pushes back into Dean's wet embrace, tilting his head to invite the brush of plush lips against his neck, drugged as always by the sweet kisses of his brother, and if he can't have what he wants, at least he can give Dean everything.

For now.


End file.
